Voice of the God
by Roove
Summary: Even on the day of a festival, Heimskr finds it necessary to preach about Talos. Some people have other ideas about how to best spend the day.


A lanky Nord in orange-colored robes made his way through the crowd. His arms folded behind his back, his lids were heavy as he composed himself.

Iconic was this man's voice. Perhaps even more iconic, his unforgettable face. While he was by no means a young man, he possessed a certain boyish charm. He looked relatively youthful- evidence of an easy life. His clothes were quite simplistic, humble even. He wore only an ankle-length robe and a pair of simple boots. Yet, rather than walk, this man coasted along the ground with a grace that betrayed his stature. Heimskr felt honored to hold a place in Skyrim's religious order.

Now, due to his frequent outings, there was some minor dissidence between him and other devotees of Talos. His fellow clergymen and women may not have always held him in high esteem. Talos worship is still illegal, Jora had written to him. You should be more careful! Surely, she jested. What other cleric on Nirn could match his unwavering dedication? His raw _passion_?

Finally, he came to a stop at the foot of the statue that marked the foot of the cloud district.

"My, my! Such a packed gathering. Such a large audience. This is wonderful- ah-ah-ahem!"

Scanning over the heads of his congregation, he considered the festival that was going to be taking place soon. There were people getting ready for it: laborers putting up banners, vendors taking extra care in displaying their wares...

A queer energy filled Heimskr's every muscle. Daedra all of them! Writhing in the corruptive aura of merriment! It was all nothing more than a distraction! A seductive enchantress to turn the gaze of reason! A needle in the eye of Skyrim's current plight!

The priest's sunken eyes lifted to stare confidently into the crowd. His arms raised to the skies in obeisance. "OH, GOOD PEOPLE, citizens of Whiterun! You prostrate yourselves at the very feet of temptation!" Naturally, some newcomers, outsiders from neighboring villages, would stop to gawk at him. Locals, however, would simply pass him by, maybe with a shake of their heads or a roll of their eyes. This was an all too common sight. "You preen yourselves like birds in cages, unaware of the _chains_ that bind you as mortals and wrench at your flesh! I come to you as a messenger from He who sits at the very precipice of the Heavens!"

"Taloooos!" His voice raised in pitch, a wavering fervor in his bulging eyes. "He who walks among the stars!"

The market was packed with people looking for something to eat or gifts to take home. Any empty pockets of space were occupied by street performers. Nobody was paying the eccentric priest any mind, of course. Yet, in the center of it all, Heimskr held his own stage. With a dramatic flourish he pointed towards a couple acrobats, both of whom had a bigger audience than him. He was shouting, but he was still almost completely drowned out by the noise of the festival.

"You dress yourselves in finery, worship jesters and troubadours-" A coin was tossed into a lute-player's hat a good several meters away from Heimskr. There was a lush rustle as it skidded over the growing pile of money. "-pay them tribute! Ugh!" His face twisted into a grimace, as if to show how repulsive it truly was.

A little girl stopped to stare, but was quickly ushered forward by her mother.

Heimskr's voice rose in pitch as they left. "Don't seek their acceptance, their guidance! And ask yourselves: can we offer these con-artists any meaningful contribution? A beggar bestowing all of his coin is hardly a sacrifice at all! That's right! I said, 'beggars'! Not poor in pocket, but poor in mind! For you, citizens of Whiterun, citizens of _Skyrim_, seem forgetful of the true threat! The _elves_ threaten to weave themselves into every facet of your lives! That is the ugly truth! We are mere mortals, we are Man, but have no fear! Talos is the true god of mortals! And we shall inherit the heavens! Not the elves and their ilk!" A determined look on his face, the priest clenched a fist in front of himself. "Trust in me, Whiterun! Trust in Heimskr! Your oncoming danger is but the tip of a needle on the might fists of Talos!"

Suddenly, there was a thrown apple.

He blinked right as the fruit hit him square in the face with a dull thunk. For the first time since he had been standing there, Heimskr stopped preaching. Momentarily stunned, he scanned the crowd in an effort to find who had thrown the fruit. Unfortunately, Whiterun was too densely-packed to pick anyone out.

Nostrils flared in frustration, Heimskr pointed into the crowd. "Pay fealty to the One lest your end be niiiiiigh!"

"It's a holiday. For the sake of Talos, get down from your soapbox and enjoy it."

There was the speaker, wearing well-fitted armor. A deep scowl was set onto his face as his eyes locked with Heimskr's own. Then there was that jester behind him.

_"…madness is merry,  
__and merriment's might,  
__when the jester comes calling with his knife in the night…"_

The babbling fool didn't interest him much, but…

In spite of his gutsy life choices, Heimskr had always found fortune on his side, something that must have been in part due to his methods of negotiation. Yes, he was used to receiving criticism, but always met it with dignity and immediate argument. Yet, in spite of his confidence, he did not respond immediately to the newcomer. It wasn't that he meant to be aloof. No, never that. More so, he was surprised that somebody had actually come up to talk to him. The last time that had happened was- a few months ago? Several months ago?

The people of Whiterun were surely devout, as Heimskr had assured himself, but not all of them were entirely enraptured with the true God of Skyrim. There was still a line of separation between Talos and the people.

Heimskr was tearing down that boundary!

What better way was there to spend a holiday than this!

_"…is there singing in the Void?  
__Dancing…?  
__Surely the Dread Lord will at least allow poor Cicero to caper."_

Slowly, the gears in Heimskr's head began to turn as he recovered from his stupor and his face lightened. "I… No, I can't get down. I will stay here, for Talos is my ally and I am his prophet! His teachings grace my tongue. I have His sermons to give!"

However, this newcomer had come up to him. Was this man, by chance, interested in what the priest had to say? That possibility was why Heimskr decided to take a quick break from preaching to the masses and spoke to the stranger with a new enthusiasm. "But you have come to me! You have come to hear the word of Talos?" The last sentence was hardly asked as a question. Heimskr had high expectations.

Alas, a rough brow raised as the newcomer eyed him. "No. No, I haven't. As far as I can tell, you seem like a lunatic."

Ha! Ah, the poor man. Was he really so ignorant to the _divine_ _forces_ at work around them? He spoke as though he didn't care! As if he were above the gods themselves! Heimskr stood on _protected _ground! With Talos's divine voice in Heimskr's throat, the man might as well shun the God Himself!

"You waste my _time _then!" Heimskr cried. "Take your crazy friend and leave me be!" With a flick of his head, Heimskr snapped his gaze away from the blasphemous intruders. With his attention and interest diverted, he never had the chance to even respond as the intruder shouted at him. Honestly, it wouldn't have mattered either way. Simple words would have done the poor priest no service, as the shout carried enough force to send the man sprawling up and over the head of his own God.

"**Fus… Ro DAH!"**

For all Heimskr's confidence, for all his gusto, he had only a couple seconds more of consciousness before he blacked out.

_"He he he… Crazy? Cicero? He he he he… That's madness!"_


End file.
